Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art

McCloud begins this chapter by examining the complex ways in which comics express time: “Just as pictures and the intervals between them create the illusion of time through closure, words introduce time by representing that which can only exist in time—sound” (95). He illustrates this with a horizontal panel of a family engaged in numerous activities. While the strip can be instantly viewed as a whole, it still needs to be read from left to right to be understood; this implies that the events depicted transpire over a brief period of time.

A single panel without text implies a single moment in time. When sound—especially a voice—is introduced, time is also implied. On the other hand, if the spoken word is rendered as a caption rather than a voice, the panel becomes a single instant again. This leads McCloud to say the bordered panel itself is “overlooked as comics’ most important icon” (98).

Panels, also known as “frames,” are drawn in a variety of ways. Regardless of shape or size, they all have the same impact on time and space—though their differences dramatically impact the reader’s experience. Comic readers learn to experience the movement of time as expressed spatially, from left to right; however, there is no constant when it comes to evaluating time lapses in strips. The artist can make a strip last for a few seconds or a millennium. McCloud demonstrates artists’ control over time in several ways: by adding more panels and space to gutters, or lengthening a single panel to make time drag.

The passage of time can be further impacted by borderless panels (such as a silent panel that gives no clues as to its duration), which creates a “timeless quality” (102). Such panels are “unresolved” and tend to linger in the reader’s mind even after their attention moves on. This effect can be enhanced if a panel “bleeds”—that is, extends beyond its margins to the edges of the printed page.

Like television shows and movies, a comic panel presents itself as—in—the present. Everything to a standard panel’s left happened in the past and everything to a standard panel’s right takes place in the future. On a multi-panel page, vertical strips above any given panel happened in the past and those below will happen in the future. Unlike other media, comics’ past, present, and future are always in view. Comics can present alternate timelines and outcomes via reaching for the future or returning to the past.

McCloud turns his attention from comics’ sense of time to motion. He describes researchers’ experimentation with motion pictures, which held the promise of showing objects in motion and recording events as they occurred during the last three decades of the 19th century. Fine artists in Europe attempted to capture this trend by painting objects in motion.

Though said artists eventually abandoned this venture, comics artists continued to develop ways of depicting motion—to great success. At first, motion in comics was depicted by drawing multiple images in sequence. Next came the “motion line”—also called a “zip ribbon”—intended “to represent the paths of moving objects through space” (111). These are lines that imply movement such as swishes, squiggles, and straight thrusting lines—that grew more sophisticated over time.

McCloud describes the different schools of comic motion as drawn in America, Europe, and Japan. Unlike American and European artists, Japanese artists use “subjective motion” (114), which involves drawing images that make the reader a part of the object in motion. Another method to imply motion is polyptych, in which the background remains virtually the same—but the moving object is framed at different angles and locations against it. Sound is represented by vocalizations, usually encased in balloons or sound effects; motion can be studied via successive panels or the power of suggestion within any one panel. The comics artist can use time, motion, sound, and even the reader’s memory of previous panels to create desired effects.

McCloud poses the question, “Can emotions be made visible” (118), before presenting a series of eight panels; each panel has an emotion-based word related to its image. On the next page, he presents six panels of powerful images, each labeled with a sensory word (like “quiet,” “sour”). It is imperative to the essence of comics for them to be able to express emotions and sensations (even in their gutters).

McCloud discusses fine arts to demonstrate what he means—movements ranging from impressionism (devoted to showing the power of light) to expressionism (devoted to showing the inner world of one’s subject). Artists of the early 20th century sought ways to evoke emotion through lines, shapes, and colors. Addressing Wassily Kandinsky, McCloud writes, “Kandinsky and his peers were searching for an art that might somehow unite the senses—and in doing so, unite the different artforms which appealed to those different senses. This idea is called synaesthetics” (123). At the time, comics artists were able to convey emotions with expressive lines or simple line figures. McCloud believes that all lines drawn in comics have the potential to make impactful sensual impressions on the reader.

McCloud goes on to show how comic lines can be used to develop “a visual metaphor—a symbol” (128) of something real but invisible. He says this is the first step in developing a language. As an example, he uses a set of cartoon wavy lines to represent invisible, but real qualities such as the smell of a garbage can and that of a dog. Artists tend to borrow the representative elements of other artists—resulting in a universal language for invisible realities that all comic readers can understand. For example, readers recognize the image of hearts above someone’s head as that of love and small bubbles above someone’s head being shorthand for inebriation.

Turning his attention to the human face, McCloud says that “the line between the visible and invisible worlds becomes even less clear” (130). Some elements such as worried creases on a forehead are actually part of what he calls “visual data” (130), meaning an observer can actually see said elements on someone’s face. On the other hand, slanted lines across a subject’s face can also indicate worry in a symbolic way. McCloud writes about symbolic images eventually becoming part of a larger language: “when such images begin to drift out of their visual context—they drift into the invisible world of the symbol. This drift from visible to invisible has been the basis of all written languages since civilization began” (130). He uses the ancient Sumerian alphabet as an example—its first images being cartoons. Eventually, these cartoons became abstractions representative of sounds rather than objects, and a written language emerged.

Beyond the symbolic lines used to describe characters’ emotions, artists also use comic backgrounds to set tone. Readers who sense artistic intent attribute the drawn emotions to characters even though they themselves are the ones experiencing them.

McCloud turns to the most common method for describing a character’s emotions: balloons that contain characters’ emotions, thoughts, sounds, or words. The underlying struggle of the “word balloon” is its ability “to depict sound in a strictly visual medium” (134). Balloons are used to express more than just words and can take on a variety of shapes.

McCloud also depicts “word boxes” that act as visual “voice overs,” ones that comment on the story taking place: “words themselves, more than all the other visual symbols, have the power to completely describe the invisible realm of senses and emotions” (135). While images can evoke emotions, words can explain and intensify said emotions. Since drawings can have more emotional impact than the abstraction of words, the two media together can produce a profound “cumulative effect” (135). McCloud closes the chapter by saying that “comics is the art of the invisible” (136). He implies that readers must bring their own invisible worlds to comics if they are to receive all they have to offer.

McCloud uses a simple series of panels to demonstrate the way in which children learn language: “It’s considered normal in this society for children to combine words and pictures, so long as they grow out of it” (139). He expounds upon this by saying that American society pushes children toward books with no pictures at all. He laments that this often leads to readers abandoning books altogether.

Meanwhile, pictures in the form of television shows and movies (combining images and spoken word) as well as comics (combining images and written words) persist. McCloud reiterates that the combination of image and word has unrealized potential and that society’s attitude that it is “base or simplistic” (141) is unjustified. To support his belief, McCloud discusses primitive cave art, saying that it shows attention to detail and early development of symbols—the root of written language.

McCloud gives a brief overview of cave drawings—of words being developed from stylized pictures to those that were pure abstractions meant to imply sounds rather than the objects from which they evolved:

It didn’t take long, though—relatively speaking—before ancient writing started to become more abstract. Some written languages survive to this day, bearing traces of their ancient pictorial heritage. But, in time, most modern writing would come to represent sound only and lose any lingering resemblance to the visible world (142-43).

From handwritten words, McCloud moves on to printed words and the manner in which the printing press caused further separation between images and words. In the early days of printing, care was taken to separate words from drawings in boxes; there were no word balloons. As language became more abstract, art became less abstract, more realistic, and representational. In response, fine art exploded. McCloud posits that fine art’s different styles had one underlying purpose: “to move away from resemblance, back to the realm of ideas” (147)—or abstraction.

While these revolutionary changes were happening in the fine art world, things were also changing for the written world: Literary styles became less formal and abstract and more informal and colloquial. Language was moving back in the direction of art, away from meaning and toward resemblance (according to Chapter 2’s pyramid).

As art and language slowly came together once more, there was a “collision”: paintings that included words, posters that included copious images, and many “pop culture” examples of combined images and words that did not pretend to be fine art. For McCloud, the ultimate expression of this movement is comic art.

McCloud notes that discovering the full potential of comics is hampered by the “general public’s perception of art and writing” (150). The definitions of fine art and fine literature remain unchanged: “The art form of comics is many centuries old, but it’s perceived as a recent invention and suffers the curse of all new media, the curse of being judged by the standards of the old” (151). Even comics artists themselves tend to denigrate the worthiness of comic art; they often jump at the chance to work in different media. This is a major factor in perpetuating the prejudice that comics is an inferior art form. McCloud wants comics to be viewed as a separate genre, unique and useful for storytelling. Pages 153-55 establish seven categories of storytelling through the use of comics:

• The first is the “word specific” category in which drawings represent words.
• The second is “picture specific” in which pictures tell a comic’s story and the words simply act as a background (i.e., when a superhero punches someone and words illustrate the sound of the blow).
• The third is “duo-specific” in which words and pictures send the same message (i.e., a weeping woman versus a caption or balloon explaining that she is sad).
• The fourth is “additive” in which words or pictures accentuate or elaborate on the message the other is sharing (i.e, when a person says his arm hurts and the picture shows an arm in a cast).
• The fifth is “parallel” in which two separate stories or themes are at play (i.e., a pitcher throwing a baseball with a thought bubble saying he is worried about filing his taxes).
• The sixth is “montage” in which words are part of a picture (i.e., a person’s worries are written throughout a panel with an image of their worried face).
• The seventh and most common category is “interdependent”—in which words and pictures work together to tell a story that each is inadequate to tell on its own. Within this category, either words or pictures may fluctuate in terms of which is more readily used and vital to the story.

McCloud expounds on the interdependent category of storytelling:

In comics at its best, words and pictures are like partners in a dance and each one takes turns leading. When both partners try to lead, the competition can subvert the overall goals. [...] Though a little playful competition can sometimes produce enjoyable results. But when these partners each know their roles—and support each other’s strengths—comics can match any of the art forms it draws so much of its strength from (156).

In the end, comics’ success comes down to balance and exploration alike. McCloud notes that the richness of human language, different art styles, and other comics creators’ work make modern day a versatile time for those who make comics.